


Unsteady

by cordkitty



Series: One Shots and Prompts and Stuff for Lokil Lavellan [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (the beginning of rope play), Angst, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Implied Relationships, Kink, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut, Smutty Smutt, dom!solas, dom!sub, elf porn, rope play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordkitty/pseuds/cordkitty
Summary: Solas is never quite alone. Whenever he closes his eyes, his past mistakes stare back at him in the form of a dark, mocking, cruel beast inside his head. He gathers all his defiance and attempts to ground himself and his new love for Lokil in reality by ‘binding her love to him’.(this contains a display of sexual dominance, consensual and thoughtful, but just so you know. Kinky shit! :)Oh, and if you're here for the actual porn, it mostly happens in part 2 of this (Steady)





	Unsteady

**Unsteady**

 

With a sigh, Solas closes his eyes.

He finds himself in the vast endlessness of his mind, a dark place, alone.

No, not alone.

He blinks.

Six mocking eyes are staring back at him, blood dripping from them. _drip, drip, drip_

The sound echoes loudly around the hollow space inside his head. This vision is all that seems to be left of him now. He reminds himself to breathe to try and stem the wave of terror wracking through at the image. Inhale, exhale. The rustle of his tunic against his skin. The sobering sting of his stiff muscles as he flexes his fingers. There is more to him than the beast staring at him silently. There is another part of him, one that is able to act, to influence, to mold - real and alive. Alive as he has not felt in ages, because of _her,_ the thought of her alone letting him feel the warm blood pulsing through his veins in a steady, solid rhythm. This is the part that he can build on, survive on. He rubs the thumb and index on his right hand together, feels the warm night air filling his lungs and the sweet, musky scents of the desert in his nose.

_drip, drip, drip_

No. He will not listen. _I will not listen._ _You are part of me, yes. But I can outgrow you._

The beast lifts its muzzle menacingly in a drooling grin. Its eyes are flashing a deeper shade of crimson, as if in challenge.

_I will not let you dissuade me. I am real. My fate is not yet written. Nothing is inevitable._

_No? ,_ the beast answers, its voice rasping, inhuman. _Don't deceive yourself, sinner. You talk of love, of tender devotion. But you know the truth behind these claims is far more... base._

Solas feels his cock twitching in his pants, but he ignores the urge.

He presses the reflection of this darkest part of himself, _the past_ , back behind the glowing image of her, _his future_ , when she left the camp a little while ago. It is also still branded on the inside of his skull, whenever he closes his eyes. He just has to direct his focus, search for her. The silken rope tied into knots and twisting elegantly around her neck and arms glinted golden in the warm light of the fire.

He opens his eyes. He no longer needs to rely on mere memories of her to guide him through the swirling darkness. She is there.

Right there.

Standing immersed to her hips in a dark pool encircled by a small outcrop of rock and surrounded by young fig trees with their large dark green leaves and patches of grass in their shade swaying in the night breeze. Droplets of water are falling softly from a crack in the rust-colored rock above her head. She lets it fall on her face and tickle her skin, smiling.

_drip, drip, drip_

She wanted a bath before lying down for the night in the shade of the fig trees. He lagged behind in the camp, trying not to appear too impatient with the mindless, cheerful chatter of his companions and the natives that are here to guide them through the treacherous desert. Now that he is here, having left the others behind him in camp, he can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. Their babbling voices and the strange music they were playing on their drums disperse on the soft breeze.

When she has had enough of her bath, Lokil turns to wade back to the edge of the pool where she discarded her clothes in a heap of silk and cotton and rope. She jumps at the sight of him sitting there with a surprised but pleased _Oh!_ escaping her lips. She smiles at him.

"Ooh, didn't see you there!", she says happily, loosening the band holding her long blond hair up in a messy knot.

Solas pulls her in his arms when she reaches him. He runs his fingers through her hair now falling to her hips. When he brings his lips to hers, she puts her arms about his neck. Her skin is warm against him, and the wetness from the water crawls through his tunic, running down his skin in tiny rivulets.

She slips a hand beneath the hem of his tunic and lets it wander up his stomach lightly. He breaks the kiss and looks at her. He tries to deny her this comfortable familiarity sometimes, still unable to fully let go the thought of the consequences this will have for her one day. The beast's grin broadens in the back of his head. Lokil tilts her head to the side, questions in her eyes.

Fully aware that he will not be able to give her any reason for withdrawing that she would be willing to accept, he simply shakes his head at her. But he does not intend to withdraw. The beast is waiting.

But he is ready.

It will not have this love. He will not see everything they share disappear in the pitch black chasm of its maw. Instead, he will tie her inexplicable love to him, bind her to him. Selfish, he knows. And yet, an exercise in deep trust. And she does trust.

She steps to the side to pick up the rope that is lying in the sand next to them and hands it to him. There is no shame in her. She knows he understands. And she knows he wants this too.

He accepts the rope and lets it glide through his fingers. The silk shimmers in the silvery moonlight. He suppresses another sigh. He could not deny her this. He searches her face to make sure they understand each other, but she holds his gaze. So he folds it carefully under her arms and crosses it over her chest several times, careful not to tie it in a way that would restrict the blood flow to her arms. Then he lets it circle her ribcage under her breasts. "Breathe in slightly." He makes sure to leave enough room for her lungs to expand comfortably. When he has repeated his careful motions several times and he holds both strings in his hands, he asks her to turn around. She does so, swaying her hips languidly to the rhythm of drums in the distance and raising her arms above her head. Then she brings them down slowly in a fluid movement, her wrists twisting elegantly. Solas puts both strings of the rope in one hand, and with the other grips both her wrists, harshly yanking them behind her back so she stumbles against him. She gasps in surprise, her breath hitching in her chest. He holds her arms in a vice-like grip, pressing her palms together, folded as if in prayer. He takes his time wrapping the rope around her arms, tying elegant patterns over her glistening skin and binding her wrists together. He checks the strength of his knots several times, slipping a finger or two beneath the rope to make sure it isn't too tight against her skin, but just tight enough. She squeals several times while he is working in silence, apparently equally mourning and delighting in the loss of control over the movement of her own body.

When he is finished, he moves his lips to the side of her neck, resisting the urge to lick and bite the tender skin there. Instead, he lets her feel his breath ghosting over the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and she shivers. She is so close to him now that he can feel her backside pressing against his growing erection. Her ears perk up as she, too, becomes aware of how close he is standing behind her and she immediately sticks out her backside behind her to rub against him.

In response, Solas forces her to her knees by jerking her bound arms down towards the ground behind her back. She yelps, her muscles straining against the tight restriction of rope, and she almost topples without her arms to balance her out; but she manages to fold her legs beneath her body and steady herself.  

Solas walks around her in a slow circle, soaking in the sight of her. The beast's wicked grin is still flashing in front of his eyes. It lets its tongue loll out of its opened snout in a vulgar kind of mockery of his lust. He can almost sense its reeking, hot breath on his face and his features contort in disgust. Lokil's large, dark eyes widen at the expression on his face, something resembling fear etched into them. She shudders again. She is beginning to feel that this is no joke and no simple game between lovers. Good.

Because to him, it is not.


End file.
